


Hold Me Tight or Don't

by dandelionsknight



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Volume 7, alcohol mention, but i promise chapter 2 is actual smut, chapter 1 is basically yearning, clubbing with team FNKI
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25809505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionsknight/pseuds/dandelionsknight
Summary: Since their reunion in Mistral, they’d been good. No kiss to seal the attraction between them. Though now of course, it’s beyond attraction. Yang loves her, and if she kisses Blake now, she won’t stop, won’t ever come up for air. She’d rather drown herself in Blake, somehow unstitch the both of them and sew them back up together as one. In a way, that’s what she’s doing now, pressed against her partner in the cold, touching her in every place except for where she really wanted.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Bumbleby - Relationship
Comments: 16
Kudos: 140





	1. Chapter 1

Yang breathes out a steady stream of air, watching it turn to mist before her eyes. Though the tip of her nose is starting to hurt, the cold feels good against her heated cheeks and sweaty skin. Team FNKI sure delivered on their promise to take them out – Yang hadn’t danced like that in so long that her and Blake had ducked outside for a break, listening to the low hum of traffic and dull thump of music through the back door.

Maybe it isn’t even a break from the exertion that Yang needs, but from the club’s atmosphere. In the half-dark, the sound of the bass in the walls and the floor and their bodies, Yang felt magnetized toward Blake, shared rhythm between their steps, smell of Strawberry Sunrise on both their breaths, faces flushed and hair stuck to their necks.

Blake grasps her bomber jacket, pulling Yang toward her. She steadies herself on the wall behind Blake, leaning into her partner’s warmth. Their cheeks brush and Yang feels dizzy, wrapping an arm around Blake’s waist. She still feels buzzed from the strawberry liqueur, and she can still smell it, sweet and sharp, on Blake. On a night like this, all she wants to do is devour her partner, dissolve her into nothing with her hands and mouth.

With one hand, Blake tugs aside Yang’s jacket collar. She shivers as cold air hits her skin. Blake leans in and presses her lips against the juncture of Yang’s neck and shoulder, replacing the chill with a warm exhalation of breath. She shivers again, this time from the contact, and her partner continues coating her neck in the tiniest of kisses. Taking her hand off the wall, Yang runs it up Blake’s back until she can grab a fistful of short, dark hair.

Yang isn’t entirely sure what Blake wants, but she can guess, and she dares not ruin it, her partner's lips on her neck and hands on her body. She doesn’t dare open her mouth to ask for one of them to name it, the heat, the pull, the attraction between them. Sure, they had fooled around at Beacon, when Yang felt shaken or powerless. Back then, Blake had seemed untouchable and ethereal, like Yang was crawling on top of a marble statue to kiss her and feel just for a moment like she was joining with a goddess, drinking sweet golden nectar straight from her lips. 

They were still young, no inherent danger in sucking and pulling on Blake’s lower lip until she moaned, or sliding her hands underneath her shirt to fondle her, or eventually, lowering her head to Blake’s breasts and taking a nipple into her mouth to suck. It was fine to end a training session with Blake’s tongue in her mouth and hands in her hair. Fine even after the Beacon dance, peeling that dress off of her like she was unearthing something precious, pulling her into her lap and letting her grind against her thigh while Yang kissed her all over and she dug her nails into Yang’s bare shoulders, leaving little red crescents in the morning.

Since their reunion in Mistral, they’d been good. No kiss to seal the attraction between them. Though now of course, it’s beyond attraction. Yang loves her, and if she kisses Blake now, she won’t stop, won’t ever come up for air. She’d rather drown herself in Blake, somehow unstitch the both of them and sew them back up together as one. In a way, that’s what she’s doing now, pressed against her partner in the cold, touching her in every place except for where she really wanted.

What would happen to them now, if Yang confessed? In her fears, it would break team RWBY. How could ever defend Ruby and Weiss the way she’d defend Blake? She’d die for Blake, easily, every single time. If it came to that. And she would lie awake thinking about Salem. She had loved Oz, and had that love destroyed not just once, but twice. What would Salem do to Blake if she could see the love in Yang’s eyes each time she looked at her partner? Maybe nothing. Maybe something terrible.

“Your heart’s beating fast,” Blake says, pulling her back into the moment, resting her hand just below Yang’s collarbone and speaking right beside her ear.

“It is,” Yang says, sliding both hands down Blake’s back, resting them on her hips. “You caught me.”

Blake lets out a small breath, almost a laugh, before looping her arms around Yang’s neck and burying her face in her shoulder. As always, Yang can only guess at what Blake truly wants. All she knows for certain is that she wants to be held. Yang can never deny her, so she squeezes her, wrapping the sides of her bomber jacket around her partner. Like this, it almost feels like they’re two souls inhabiting the same warm body.

It could be that Blake doesn’t even feel the same way about her – and is it really fair to ask for love from her so soon after Adam stalked her across Anima? Maybe Yang is the only one of them in such deep love. Blake may still feel the way they did at Beacon – two lonely, touch-starved girls all too willing to eat from the other’s palm.

Yang undeniably wants Blake. Her whole body _burns_ with it, the memory of Blake’s kiss seared onto Yang’s lips. She holds one of Blake’s hands, twining their fingers together, and squeezes. A silent way to say _I love you_ , even if Blake has no idea what it means.

“You know,” Blake says, her breath tickling Yang’s neck. “The dorm is probably empty right now."

“Probably,” Yang says, and chuckles softly. “Through with dancing?”

Blake squeezes Yang’s hand back. “Yeah, but not with you. We never get to be alone.”

Yang’s heart is beating a mile a minute. She feels like she’s been racing on Bumblebee for hours, just from the sheer thrill of Blake’s words. “And what do you want to do alone in the dorm?”

“I-”

Their scrolls start buzzing and ringing, and they jump apart. Blue light floods their faces as they open the SOS message from Ruby. Yang should’ve known the real world would interrupt them sooner or later.

She’d been dangerously close to not being good anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is basically just an amalgamation of yearning quotes from movies that I love + my assertion that FOB'S HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON'T is absolutely a song written about bumbleby. some lyrics to consider on that: 
> 
> "I got too high again  
> Realized I can't not be with you  
> Or be just your friend  
> I love you to death  
> But I just can't, I just can't pretend  
> We were lovers first  
> Confidants but never friends  
> Were we ever friends?"
> 
> really makes you think! anyway, chapter 2 is already written, just needs to be edited. thank you for reading and hang out with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/dandelionsnight) or [Tumblr!](https://dandelionsknight.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

Deep into the night, Blake can’t sleep worth a damn, even after the disaster at Robyn’s campaign rally. She’d never really been able to sleep well in the sterile Atlas dormitories, missing the sounds of singing frogs and stirring palm trees that had lulled her to sleep in Kuo Kuana.

She pokes her head up to Yang’s bunk, to see if she’s awake too. Sure enough, Yang rolls over, eyes wide open. Blake smiles and Yang tosses the covers aside, shuffling over to make room.

They hadn’t started sharing a bed at Beacon until Blake finally told her team about the White Fang, reserving the full story for only Yang. It hadn’t been every night, but when Blake felt simply too scared in her own skin from the nightmares, she’d put her stealth to work and slip into Yang’s bunk.

It had always been wordless, Yang so warm and sleepy, wrapping herself around Blake. Sometimes, she’d even give little kisses to her neck and shoulders. Though she’d likely still be awake all night, she had finally felt safe in her partner’s arms.

Tonight is similar, though they’d adopted a new position, more comfortable for Yang, who slept without her prosthetic arm. Yang rolls onto her back while Blake lies on her stomach, snuggling into her side, Yang’s arm wrapping around her. She traces absent shapes on Blake’s lower back, pushing up her t-shirt to make contact with bare skin.

Earlier that night outside the club, it had felt like Yang was holding back somehow, tense even in each other’s arms. Blake could really only guess why, but none of the reasons were particularly good. Fear that Blake would leave again. Hesitation to get close to her. Doubt in her partner’s loyalty.

Even after facing Adam, things hadn’t fully returned back to normal. Maybe it had never been normal between them. She wanted Yang so much it made her head spin. But maybe Yang didn’t want her love, the trust in her shattered like the moon. That’s why Blake can’t bring herself to kiss Yang – it would be an admittance of love she may not even want, Blake opening her heart up to rejection from the one person she couldn’t stand to take it from.

Yang’s fingers drift over the x-shaped scar on Blake’s hip, gently tapping it twice. _Is it hurting you,_ the gesture means, a simple code they’d made up to avoid talking and waking Ruby and Weiss. Blake considers it, but she hadn’t really been thinking about her past in her sleeplessness. She shakes her head no, then taps Yang’s shoulder, just above where her prosthetic connects, asking the same question. Yang shakes her head too. It seems they had both had new troubles to keep them up at night.

Blake relaxes into Yang and softly kisses the same spot from earlier, the meeting place between her neck and shoulder. Part of her worries she’d been too forward, enabled by the alcohol. But even now, perfectly sober, Blake wants to continue what they started. Wonders if Yang wants the same.

She knows she shouldn’t miss the days at Beacon, seeking out hidden places for something as simple as a kiss that now makes their relationship feel so complicated. But Blake does miss it, mapping the intricacies of her partner’s body until she could make her shiver from pleasure with just a touch. The nights after Blake reckoned with the White Fang or when Yang believed she’d broken Mercury’s leg, they’d kissed to forget. Now Blake wants to kiss to remember.

Blake rests a hand on Yang’s knee and runs it upward, along the smooth skin of her thigh. Yang tenses but doesn’t break the contact between them. Did her partner want her, too? Love her? The way Blake wants and loves her?

Yang sits up and hisses in her ear, “Meet me in the bathroom.”

She descends the bunk, and there’s the soft click of her attaching her prosthetic, followed by the sound of the door closing. Hoping Yang would say something like that, Blake slips out too.

“Yang?” she whispers as she enters the communal bathroom.

Inside, it’s dark and chilly, only a few beams of silvery moonlight slicing down through a skylight. Suddenly, she’s pulled into one of the shower stalls by Yang, who locks the door behind her. Without even saying a word, Yang presses her against the wall and cups her cheeks as she kisses down her jaw and neck. Blake grips the front of Yang’s tank top and tilts her head back to give her partner better access.

“I can’t fucking take it anymore,” Yang says, breathless in between kisses, though avoiding Blake’s lips.

“Take what?” Blake asks, grinning as Yang fumbles to take off both their shirts.

“You know,” Yang says, sliding her hands over Blake’s hips to rest on her ass. “I want you, Belladonna. Jump.”

She obeys, and Yang lifts her up against the wall. Blake wraps her legs around Yang’s waist, even though she knows her partner would never drop her. Her heart races, skin prickling with goosebumps from the cold tile pressed against her bare back while also burning up from the sheer heat Yang radiated.

Yang kisses the skin underneath Blake’s collarbones, sucking and biting until she’s marked Blake with a trail of purple bruises. Blake would have to stay zipped up tomorrow to keep everyone from asking too many questions about _that_ , but she doesn’t mind the intimacy of it, Yang leaving behind a map of where she’d been. Blake tilts up Yang’s chin and says,

“I want you too, Xiao Long.”

Yang’s irises are nearly swallowed by her pupils, blown wide from the dark or the adrenaline or maybe both. She leans down to kiss Blake’s breast, running her tongue over her nipple and sucking. Burying her hands in Yang’s hair, she moans, until her partner moves to bury her face in Blake’s chest.

“I missed these,” Yang says, kissing and licking her other breast while Blake laughs at the comment.

She gives Blake’s ass a final squeeze before letting her down and wasting no time sliding her hand beneath the waistband of Blake’s shorts. Blake grins as Yang groans and says,

“You’re trying to kill me.”

So maybe she isn’t wearing any underwear. Though possibly she might have ruined a perfectly good pair of shorts with the wetness between her thighs.

Blake can only manage, “I miss us.”

Yang flashes her a grin she could only describe as _hungry_. “Turn around. Now.”

If this is all it takes to get Yang to boss her around, Blake might just have to capitalize on a lack of underwear again in the future. She turns, placing her hands on the wall, and Yang yanks down Blake’s shorts. Her sex is hot and needy, exposed now to the cool air, and she rolls her hips, hoping it’ll entice Yang to touch her. Her partner presses up against Blake, kissing her neck and shoulders, and begins massaging her ass.

“Yang,” Blake says, trying to grind back against her for relief.

“What?”

“Come on. Touch me.”

Yang runs her tongue up Blake’s neck, stopping to nibble her ear lobe while she reaches around to cup Blake’s sex. “Here?”

She nods as Yang rubs her clit, slowly at first, but picking up pace. Then, she slides two fingers inside of her, keeping her thumb on her clit. Blake’s lips part and she moans as Yang pumps her fingers, crooking them inside of her.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” Yang whispers, lightly slapping her ass, eliciting a pleasured cry from Blake. “You like that?”

She slaps her again and Blake shudders, the mixture of pain and pleasure making her head swim more than the alcohol. Only in Yang’s hands would she ever feel comfortable receiving this kind of treatment – she trusts her partner completely, with her whole life and body, and it seems Yang remembers how to rile her up. As she keeps using her fingers to fuck her, she gives her three quick slaps on the ass, and Blake is a whimpering, trembling mess. Yang massages the hot, aching skin, kissing the back of Blake’s neck and saying,

“Good girl. You take that so well.”

Blake’s back arches against Yang, who now brings her other hand around to rub her clit, Blake’s orgasm close on the horizon. If this is the sex they’re having now, Blake can only imagine what it’d be like if she’d actually confess. Maybe better, maybe worse, but tonight, she’s feeding on white-hot passion from her partner, stoking the flames she’d felt in her belly the moment Yang pulled her onto the dance floor with a wink and a smile.

Pressed up against Yang, her partner’s fingers buried deep inside her, Blake’s senses feel smothered by things deadlier than chloroform, sweat and Yang’s citrus shampoo, heavy panting and the whisper of her name like a prayer. She shuts her eyes, the world swallowed by darkness as she bucks her hips against Yang’s fingers.

Yang says, “Come for me. You’re fucking mine.”

Blake comes with a soft cry, pleasure roaring through her, the pressure in her belly releasing as Yang holds her steady. Stars whirl in her vision, and she drops her head back against Yang’s shoulder, who kisses her cheek and says, “You did so good.”

Her first orgasm at the hands of another person, and with Yang, no less. Blake rasps, “Let me do you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Blake twists around in Yang’s arms and pushes her into the other wall. “Just enjoy, Xiao Long.”

Pulling her own shorts back up, Blake kneels and tugs Yang’s shorts and underwear down. Yang is fucking perfect, skin coated in a sheen of sweat, muscled body outlined by the glow of moonlight, a trail of golden hair leading from her navel to her sex. As Blake leans in to have a taste, Yang gathers up her hair and holds it back for her.

Looking up, she says, “How thoughtful of you.”

Yang scoffs and says, “You look good on your knees, Belladonna.”

Wasting no time, Blake runs her tongue over Yang’s clit, slowly lapping up all of her wetness. Her partner tastes both salty and sweet on her tongue. It isn’t hard to gauge Yang’s reactions to the different ways Blake uses her mouth, particularly when she swears and pulls on Blake’s hair tighter when she begins sucking her clit. She grins, enjoying the quivers of Yang’s body as she slides two fingers inside her partner, and then a third, Yang taking them easily.

Kneeling in front of her partner, devouring her like her last meal, feels so intrinsically right to Blake. She wants Yang to always feel this good at her hands. Yang tugs on her hair, thighs shaking, and Blake knows what she wants, presses her tongue flat against her clit and sucking on the bundle of nerves while she crooks her fingers inside her.

Yang gasps, “ _Blake_ ,” and comes, tightening around her fingers and soaking them.

She licks off all of Yang’s wetness, wiping some off her chin. When she stands up, she cups her partner’s face, tracing the swirling patterns of freckles on her skin. Yang catches one of her hands and presses a kiss to her palm. They are both still just trying to catch their breath. As the heat of the moment dies, it dawns on Blake what they’d just done. They’d never gone that far before.

Yang leans forward, her lips only centimeters away. Blake can feel the rise and fall of her partner’s breath on her own mouth. One exhale too hard from either of them and they’d collide. But Blake knows that if she kisses this girl, she’ll be forever wed to her. She can’t just let herself go. Maybe this, the friends with benefits arrangement they’d started at Beacon, is all of her that Yang wants.

As if reading her thoughts, Yang bends down to recover her shorts and underwear. Wordlessly, they redress. Blake wants to scream. Wants to kiss her. Wants to fuck her again. Wants to tell her she loves her. She might just catch on fire from all this wanting. Yang takes her hand and squeezes it, and they walk back to the dorm as if in a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not me updating this almost two weeks since i posted chapter one! oh well. at least it's here now. 
> 
> i'm thinking about making this the first fic in a series, depending on the events of vol 8. maybe the bees will actually kiss, then. this was my first time writing angst and I kind of loved it??
> 
> well, thanks for reading, and hang out with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/dandelionsnight) or [Tumblr!](https://dandelionsknight.tumblr.com/)


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